


Running

by stellarumsalve



Category: Cowboy Bebop (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, F/M, Gen, Lovers To Enemies, Past Relationship(s), Smoking, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:54:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26032195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarumsalve/pseuds/stellarumsalve
Summary: Spike Spiegel finds himself running, running, running. It becomes a familiar sensation to him.
Relationships: Julia/Spike Spiegel
Kudos: 5





	Running

**Author's Note:**

> [SPOILERS FOR THE SERIES! I suggest you finish it before reading this. Takes place sometime after Spike leaves the syndicate but before he meets Jet.]

Spike took a slow drag of his cigarette, the last one in his pack. On the front of the box was the name Julia, signed in pen. The ink had faded, but still it remained. He exhaled the smoke, a routine he knew well, and watched as it spilled into the gloomy night.

The rain rolled down in heavy streams, relentless and sorrowful, like tears. Though the clouds were dark and threatening, the thunder dared not boom. It simply let the sky cry in silence. Spike sighed and leaned against the brick wall, the neon light of the pool hall sign flickering red and blue above him. When the cigarette shortened to an orange stub, he tossed it to the ground. But the empty pack, he stuffed into his pocket too quickly, like a secret he couldn’t reveal to the world. Like it was some dangerous drug, setting fire to his body.

He felt Julia’s name burn into his thigh. Still she remained. After all this time, all this smoke, all this aching... Spike made his way down the shady alley and out of the city. Time to hit the road. He could feel the weight of the box in his pocket, a weight he’d have to carry for the rest of his life. It was a familiar weight.

He knew she was assigned to kill him. It was inevitable, this game of chase. When a cat finds its prey, it will not easily give way. And when running from a lover, one finds it hard to see if they are running away or toward them.

Sometimes, Spike would leave little clues or hints for her, just for fun. A note with nothing but her name on it tagged on the bar door, a spent cigarette end, a glass of whiskey paid for by an anonymous man. He smiled whenever he received messages from other ships, telling him a certain woman was asking about him. He’d simply say, “Sorry, but you’ve got the wrong guy,” and disconnect. And the chase would continue. Spike, running away, and Julia, trying to catch him.

There had been some close calls, sure. He’d linger around the bar a day longer, waiting to see a streak of blonde hair. He’d walk the streets of the city, searching for a bright red car. But then, she would find him out of nowhere, and before either of them knew it, he was jumping in his ship and running away again. Maybe, he thought, just maybe, it was some backwards way of telling her that he still...

The rain kept beating down on his back, as though to tell him to stop thinking about it. But he digressed. As Spike continued along the street, he wondered how to classify their relationship now. Not that it was a relationship in the first place. They were just coworkers, and all he did was quit without his two week notice, and now he had to be killed. Company policy, really. That’s all there was to it.

But of course, he knew that wasn’t the truth. There was a certain way his coworker would walk in her high heels that made him turn his head, a dark gleam in her eyes that drew his own toward hers like a magnet. The way her red lips parted slightly whenever she was concentrated aiming her gun, and suddenly there was a new desire blooming in Spike’s chest like a thorn.

She was dangerous, that much was obvious. Women, particularly syndicate women, always were. With their sharp tongues and sharper knives, they proved to be fatal drugs to the men who fell for them.

Coworkers, yes. As assassins. Partners. There were three of them, in fact.

Jobs were to be quick, and only dirty if need be. That was the unspoken rule among Spike, Julia, and Vicious. Three elite syndicate assassins. But Spike had always been too reckless, and Julia had always been too careful, so the rule was rarely followed. More often then not, their jobs took suspiciously long, and they were not breathless all because of the job. Red smears on Spike’s neck that were certainly not blood, a flush on Julia’s cheeks when she never wore blush. Vicious would never fail to notice.

So Spike left. Simple. And now here he was, scrounging up money for gas and running, running, running. Though his steps were slow in the rain, he was still running. Always running. The empty pack in his pocket sat like a stone. Perhaps he could classify them as lovers, who became enemies on opposing sides.

Not that they were ever lovers.

Spike dismissed the thoughts and climbed into the cockpit. He felt the familiar rumble of the engine, the familiar sputter, the familiar gloves on his hands. He heard the familiar rain slow to a drizzle on the familiar roof. He closed his eyes. The same routine. Nothing different.

And just as he was about to begin his familiar takeoff, he saw the familiar red car of a terribly familiar woman. 

The terribly familiar woman brushed away her terribly familiar blonde hair. Spike ceased the engine. Her familiar eyes were not predatory, for a reason he couldn’t discern. Instead, they were full of a strange, unfamiliar, angry sadness. A new fear stabbed through his heart like a thorn.

Was she ever so terribly familiar, he wondered? This soft, sad woman... Was it really his Julia? Blonde locks tossed in the wind, gentle rain soaked her black coat, blue eyes with no hint of a murderous intent. He shook his head. It couldn’t be. His Julia would have shot him, point blank. His Julia would stick to her assignment, and wouldn’t falter.

His Julia would know that they were never lovers.

As he ran off again into the sky, he glanced back (maybe it was out of pity, he told himself). She stood there in the rain, pointing a gun at his ship, as though it could reach him if she shot. She looked so... sad. Helpless. The pity crawled up Spike’s throat.

 _Coward_ , he said to himself, as he pulled out a new pack of cigarettes and set the familiar course for Mars. _You’re getting soft, Spiegel. Aren’t you ready to die?_

Julia picked up an empty pack on the ground.

_You’re such a coward. Running away again._

**Author's Note:**

> just a short drabble, but when i got the inspiration i couldnt help it. spike & julia’s story is one of my absolute favorites.


End file.
